Heron Lake Plateau So there's this puzzle I work on endlessly

He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't think.
At the very least, he couldn't talk, and that was probably good considering his track record.

And then Niamh was pushing him over and sitting across him, far from the comfort she had once bestowed with her embrace. This time she was putting more pressure on his chest and sides—like she wanted him to burst—and for a few seconds Screech thought, this is how I die.

Whatever she did—whether it was her sitting on him or the fact he'd just collided with the ground so hard that it smacked some sense in to his stupid lungs—he let out all that pent-up air once he hit the dirt. Screech sputtered and gagged, and this time it wasn't filled with nonsensical laughter. His chest hurt. He hadn't popped or suffocated though, so that was a plus.